May You Find Some Comfort There
by britgirl2003
Summary: ONESHOT. KirstenCaleb. Kirsten and her mother make the Christmas tree decoration that Caleb loved so much.


**Disclaimer: I don't own The OC or its characters, etc. **

**The fic title is a lyrics from Sarah McLachlan's 'Angel'.**

**Summary: requested by millstone1005 at ocplotbunnies at LiveJournal. The idea was to write the Nichol family Christmas scene where Kirsten and her mother make the Christmas decoration that Caleb loved so much. I used the season one timeline, where a 16 to 18-year-old Kirsten (and Jimmy) would have been babysitting a 10-year-old Hailey.**

**xxxxxxxxxx**

The temperature had dropped to below 50 degrees. For the residents of Newport Beach, this was a sign that Christmas had almost arrived. The shops had been full of gifts for months, cashing in early for those organised shoppers. The mall was brimming with decorations, filling its visitors with Christmas spirit. Homes had been transformed into winter wonderlands as children waited impatiently for the arrival of Old Saint Nick.

In the Nichol house, Kirsten was sat on the floor. Her blonde hair was tousled around her shoulders and her big blue eyes gazed up in awe at the grand Christmas tree that towered above her. Coloured lights – her mother's favourite – were wrapped around it, dancing sporadically. The light bounced off the baubles, shining against the waxed wooden floor. Delicate ornaments hung from the branches – angels, snowmen, candy canes.

Bing Crosby crooned in the background. Sarah Nichol lay on the sofa, her eyes closed as she hummed softly with the music. Her hand rubbed her rounded belly. Kirsten's new brother or sister would be joining them in just four months time. She was excited; still slightly nervous, but less than she had been with her firstborn. She had always dreamed of a large family. They had promised to make this Christmas as special as possible for Kirsten, before she would have to share her parents with her sibling.

She tipped her head and smiled at the perfect picture she saw. Kirsten was still staring up at the Christmas tree that they had spent all morning decorating, as if in a trance. She watched her daughter carefully. She was a perfect mix of her mother and father – creative and free-spirited, like her mother; yet strong and resilient, like her father. As if she knew she was being watched, Kirsten turned to look at her mother.

"Mommy, why do we have Christmas trees at Christmas?" Kirsten asked curiously.

"Well it wouldn't look right at any other time of the year," Sarah teased her daughter.

Kirsten rolled her eyes. She was smart for a seven-year-old and knew when she was being teased. "Mommy!"

Sarah laughed. "Well, I think it has something to do with it being an evergreen tree," she started.

"Evergreen?" Kirsten questioned.

"It means it stays green all year round. Not like the trees in our garden which lost all their leaves in the autumn," Sarah explained. "People found them magical. And I think they first became associated with Christmas in Germany."

"That's a long way away," Kirsten frowned. For her last birthday, her parents had bought her a globe. It had opened her eyes, for she now knew that there was so much in the world outside the small town she lived in.

"Yes, it is," Sarah smiled. "And slowly, the tradition moved from country to country until it ended up in America."

"Oh," Kirsten said softly, her eyes floating back to the decorated tree in front of her.

She sat staring at the tree for a few minutes, drawn back in by its glaring brightness.

"Mommy, is daddy coming home soon?" Kirsten spoke eventually. "I want to show him the tree."

"He'll be home later," Sarah answered. _When_, she didn't know. Whenever he was finished with his latest project; whenever he had finished speaking to his most important clients.

She saw her own disappointment mirrored in her daughter's face.

"Why don't we make something for daddy? Something new to hang on the Christmas tree?" Sarah suggested.

Kirsten loved to draw and paint and make things. Sarah dreamed that, when she was older, Kirsten would use her passion as her career. She envisaged her as an artist or a sculptor – fulfilling her own dreams that had ended when she had married Caleb and fallen pregnant so quickly.

"Yes!" Kirsten squealed. She jumped to her feet, excited, and ran into the room next door.

Sarah laughed at her daughter's enthusiasm and swung her legs off the sofa, pushing herself to standing. The bump she carried weighed her down and she moved slower than she used to, finding it difficult to keep up with her energetic daughter. She padded into the next room and found Kirsten already at the table. She had gone into the cupboard and fetched her stationery – pens and pencils; glue and glitter; paper and assorted materials that she had collected.

"What are we going to make, mommy?" Kirsten asked, eager to begin.

"How about a snowman?" Sarah suggested.

Kirsten wrinkled her nose disapprovingly.

"Ok, what about Santa Claus?"

Kirsten shook her head, no.

"An angel?"

Kirsten's face lit up. "Yes! An angel!" she cheered.

Sarah sat in the chair next to her daughter. She reached into the box of stationery delights and pulled out a clay-type substance.

"What's that for?" Kirsten asked.

"This we're going to mould into the shape of our angel," Sarah said. "And then we'll cover it in material to look pretty."

"Can I do it?" Kirsten asked eagerly.

"Of course. Hold out your hands," Sarah instructed. Kirsten obeyed. Sarah dropped a small ball into her hands. "Now roll it in your fingers to make it softer so that we can shape it."

Kirsten did as she was told. The clay slowly became softer in her hands. Her hands became covered in a grey stickiness that Sarah knew would soon itself over her face and clothes. Her face was a picture of concentration.

"Now what?" Kirsten asked impatiently.

Sarah explained how to mould the clay into the shape of an angel. Kirsten's eyes were bright as she followed the instructions she was given, her mouth smiling in delight as she started to recognise the shape of the angel.

"Now what?" Kirsten asked again.

"Now we cut out the material to decorate it while it hardens," Sarah answered.

As she reached into the box of materials, she felt a sharp kick inside of her. She gasped in surprise.

"Mommy?" Kirsten's eyes were wide with fear as her mother stopped suddenly.

"It's ok, sweetie," Sarah reassured her daughter. "The baby just kicked."

Kirsten eyed the bump suspiciously. "It kicked?"

"Yes. Sometimes babies do that while they're inside their mother," Sarah said.

"Did I kick?" Kirsten asked.

"Oh yes," Sarah laughed. "Do you want to feel?"

Sarah extended her hand towards Kirsten. Kirsten looked unsure for a moment, but slowly she lifted her hand towards her mother's. Sarah placed Kirsten's hand on her belly and, as if the small person inside knew that his or her sister was waiting, kicked at her hand from inside. Kirsten's hand flew off her mother's belly, surprised by the sudden movement. A tiny print of her hand remained on her mother's maternity dress. Sarah smiled at the strange image.

"How did that feel?" she asked Kirsten.

Kirsten wrinkled her nose. "Weird."

Sarah laughed, bending down and placing a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

With clean hands, Kirsten settled back at the table and Sarah took her through the steps to decorate the angel. They covered it with brown hemp, giving it a face and wings. Sarah kept a close eye on her daughter's work. Their heads bent down, the focussed on their project and oblivious to the sounds around them.

Caleb came through the door, exhausted after yet another long meeting at work. He had been working so hard recently, finalising deals and marketing for new clients. As he looked around at the elegant house and the gifts that he had bought, he felt like it was worth it. After growing up in such different surroundings, he had worked hard to be able to provide his family with so much extravagance.

He didn't understand his wife's argument that they didn't need so many presents. So many times, she would ask him to spend more time at home than at the office; to spend time with his family. She would tell him that she didn't need expensive jewellery, and that Kirsten didn't need another new doll, and that the baby didn't need any more clothes. He never listened. For Caleb, it was proof of his success. Proof that he belonged here in Newport.

But that didn't stop the sinking feeling when he arrived home too late to enjoy a meal with his wife, or to listen to Kirsten read, or to put her to bed. He was usually greeted with a silent house, except for the quiet hum of the television as his wife slept on the sofa, waiting for him.

Even with Christmas approaching, he was still working long hours. Sarah had begged him to take some time off when the baby was born and he had reluctantly agreed. He felt frustrated that she didn't understand that this meant he had to work twice as hard in the meantime. He was still building a reputation with his boss, hoping for that promotion that would push him one step further up the corporate ladder. Eventually, he dreamed of owning his own business. The appeal of being his own boss kept him going during the long nights, when he was still at work surrounded by paper and battling with facts and figures.

He found his wife and daughter huddled together over the table and paused in the doorway. He watched his wife, noticing how she often placed a protective hand over the bump, stroking her belly softly. He loved the feel of her pregnant body in comparison to his own soft round belly. Too many takeaways and not enough exercise, Sarah accused. His eyes drifted to his daughter, who was concentrating intently on what she was doing. He saw himself in her – hardworking, focussed, determined – and he often wished she carried more of her mother's traits.

"What are you working on?" he asked softly. The sound of his voice made them both spin around.

"Daddy!" Kirsten squealed, jumping from her seat. "Look what we made for you!"

She ran towards her father, her hands covered in ink and glue, carrying the Christmas angel they had made. Sarah was about to protest, worried about the mess she would make of Caleb's expensive suit, but she stopped when she saw Caleb reach out to catch his daughter. He collected her in his arms, lifting her up.

"Let me have a look at this," Caleb said, taking the angel from Kirsten's hands. He held it out in his palm.

"Do you like it?" Kirsten asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh yes, baby girl, I love it," Caleb gushed. "It's beautiful."

Kirsten smiled, delighted at his positive response. She tightened her arms and kissed his cheek loudly, giggling into his ear.

"Will you help me hang it?" Kirsten asked.

"Of course I will," Caleb agreed, dropping Kirsten to the floor. She wandered back towards the table, picking up the string to attach to the angel. Caleb sat in her seat and lifted Kirsten onto his lap.

"What do I do?" Caleb asked his seven-year-old daughter.

"Here, daddy, we put a hole in the top of the angel and mommy said we have to put the string through it," Kirsten instructed.

Caleb let Kirsten guide him and they soon had a finished tree decoration. Kirsten slid off of her father's knees and grabbed his hand, leading him through the house to the Christmas tree. The angel dangled from Kirsten's finger, but she stopped in front of the tree and turned to her father. Caleb knelt down next to her.

"Will you let me hang it?" Caleb asked.

Kirsten smiled and nodded. He took the angel from her hand and lifted her off the floor again.

"Carefully, daddy," Kirsten ordered.

Caleb laughed softly and _carefully_ hung the angel at the front of the Christmas tree. He took a step back, Kirsten still in his arms, and they studied the tree.

"It looks perfect," Caleb said. "In fact, it's my favourite decoration out of _all_ of them."

"Really?" Kirsten asked.

Caleb nodded. "And I want to be able to hang it from the tree _every_ year. Will you let me do that?"

Kirsten thought about it for a moment, before nodding enthusiastically. "Of course, daddy."

Caleb pressed his lips against Kirsten's soft hair, breathing in the smell of her hair. Sarah watched the scene with a smile, her hands instinctively reaching down to the bump. It made her even more excited for the new arrival.

"What shall we do now?" Kirsten said.

Caleb wavered, remembering the pile of paperwork that was waiting for him in his briefcase.

"I don't know…"

They both recognised the tone in his voice, knowing that an excuse would soon follow.

"Cal!" Sarah admonished before he had chance to finish.

Caleb opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when he looked at his daughter. Kirsten's face was filled with disappointment and her bottom lip wobbled. He knew he couldn't let her down now.

"I don't know…if you're going to be able to keep up with all the fun I have planned," Caleb said, tickling Kirsten in his arms. Kirsten squealed, laughing and wriggling in his arms.

"Daddy, stop!"

He dropped her to the floor and she ran towards her mother, hiding behind her and giggling. Caleb walked towards his wife, a playful glint in his eye. He stroked her belly softly and leant in to kiss her.

"Fun, huh?" Sarah quizzed.

Caleb shrugged. "I'll think of something."

And so he did. The afternoon was spent at the mall, queuing with the other excited children so that Kirsten could have five minutes sitting on Santa's lap, before Caleb treated them to dinner. A local choir were singing Christmas carols on the pier and after dinner they stood listening until Kirsten fell asleep in her father's arms.

As Caleb tucked her into bed later that night, Kirsten stirred.

"Daddy, do you really think that Santa will bring me the presents I asked for?" she said softly.

"You'll have to wait until Christmas day to find out," Caleb smiled, running his hand over her curly hair.

Kirsten sighed as she started to lose her battle with sleep. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Yes, baby girl," Caleb promised, knowing it wouldn't take very long for her to fall into a slumber.

He watched her sleep for a while, savouring the moment. Sometimes he thought his wife was right: nothing could beat the way he felt at that moment. As he wandered downstairs, he caught site of the angel that hung proudly from the Christmas tree. He smiled at the sentiment behind it.

He knew it would be his favourite for all the Christmases to come.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

The following year, with Kirsten by his side and his wife holding baby Hailey, Caleb hung the angel on the tree once again.

The year he created the Newport Group, Caleb broke his promise and arrived home six hours late to find eleven-year-old Kirsten asleep on the sofa, waiting for him to hang the angel.

The first year Kirsten was away at college, Caleb hung the angel on the tree with the phone sat in the crook of his neck, his shoulder hunched to keep it against his ear as he listened to Kirsten talk animatedly about college.

The Christmas before Kirsten got married, they hung the angel together with the promise that it wouldn't break their tradition.

The year after Seth was born, Caleb carried out his task as he cradled the small bundle of clumsy limbs and black hair in his arm, the place that Kirsten had occupied so many times before.

The year after his wife died, Kirsten found her father by the tree in the early hours of the morning, tears streaming down his face as he hung the angel amongst the decorations that his wife had loved so much.

The year before he died, Caleb had joined Kirsten in a toast as they stood, side-by-side next to the tree, fearful that the secret he had kept for the past sixteen years was about to resurface.

The first year after his death, Kirsten held the ornament in her hands, hesitating by the tree as she pondered whether to hang it. As she thought of her father, she was filled with a mix of happy and sad memories; but, as she looked at the small object in her hands, her mind drifted back to the day it had been made and she smiled. With a deep breath, she hung it carefully from the branches, knowing that she had beaten the demons that had once threatened her. Now, as she stared at the tree in the same awe that filled her every year, she knew it would always be incomplete without that angel.


End file.
